It's Only Rock-n-Roll

TURKEY SHOOT, continued. JUST A FEW OF THE CLASSICS FOR YOUR THANKSGIVING ENJOYMENT! EAT UP! Dar Williams: End of the Summer (Razor and Tie, 1997). The worst case of oversignificance to hit an artist since Suzanne Vega, Williams could turn a sunny day into midnight just by opening her mouth. The darling of the FUV jetset crowd, calling her pretentious would do a disservice to pretentiousness. And this is her best effort! C. John Fogerty: Centerfield (Warner Brothers, 1985). With each passing year my contempt for this half-hearted, half-assed effort grows. Sure, it's competently played, and therein lies the problem. Fogerty could always out play his contemporaries. The trick is to bring something unique to the table. If we are to believe that Rock-n-roll Girls is the next Lookin' Out My Backdoor then we'd be believing in a lie. Truth is this was lame then and it's lamer now. B-. Norah Jones: Feels Like Home (Blue Note, 2004). "What's not to like?" Robe...

RAP IT UP! I've been remiss in my picks for top rap/hip-hop albums. So as not to suggest unwarranted bias, here are some of the better efforts out there. Kanye West: The College Dropout (Roc-A-Fella, 2004). Like Ice-T before him he has no fear of breaking taboos and telling the world where to stick it. But whereas the former turned to unenlightened sociologist/philosopher, and saw a duty to rat out even his own kind, West really does see himself as the savior of hip-hop. His arrogance is not in a critique of what ails the world, but in how he can exploit it for his own good. But, like Mick Jaggar, his ego doesn't detract from his talent; it only enhances it. This is the best damn album in a genre that has seen more violence and insanity than any since rock music got started five decades ago. Yes, I know it's dangerous; quite frankly what he advocates will somehow come back to haunt him in his later years, assuming he lives that long. But deny him, you can't. A+ The Fug...